Through a child's eyes
by Blood Thirsty Angle
Summary: It was supposed to be a normal take your brother's daughter to work day, but unfortunately, it didn't turn out that way. Now, a child is stuck in a war that could change the world if some magic tablet falls into the wrong hands. Set during Battle of the Smithsonian.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note:** Hey guys! While it's only been a few days since I posted my other Night at the Museum fic, I had an idea for this little story. I noticed there are a lot of OC stories in this fandom that are romantically involved with a majority of the main characters. While there is nothing wrong with that, I wanted to take a little break from that road and write one where it is just a friendship story. I wondered what it would be like if there was more a childlike prescence in the movie, so I began to think. Along with that, since my character is a child and will not be paired with any of the characters. That would be just plain gross. So without further ado, here is my story._

_**Warnings:** None_

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Night at the Museum and never will. All OCs used are mine. Thank you_

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><p>There is nothing more boring than take your daughter to work day.<p>

Okay, let me rephrase that: There is nothing more boring than taking your _brother's daughter_ to work day because a certain little girl's dad decided that going on a business meeting to Paris was more important than spending time with his own kid.

Wow, what a great guy, wouldn't you say?

I swung my legs out in front of me from my seat in my Uncle Charlie's car, my legs barely touching the floor. He glanced at me awkwardly through the rearview mirror, hands clenched tightly on the gray steering wheel. "So," he began after a few minutes of silence. "How's school? Do you like it? Do you have any friends?"

My Uncle Charlie isn't much of a Chatty Cathy like me. Whereas I can talk a mile a minute, he usually just gives one word sentences or phrases. It's not that he's mean or a snob, or anything of that sort, he's just kind of shy. My dad is his older brother and he's like me, a talker. Uncle Charlie is more of a listener, which I find to be a lot more bearable. So for him, asking a bunch of questions in a row is a big milestone.

"School is boring," I complain, slouching in my seat with my arms crossed. "I can't wait until summer vacation! Most people in my grade are a bunch of babies. And of course I have friends! Why wouldn't I?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and shook his head, as if whatever he was about to say was bad. "I hated math in school," he said slowly after a minute of silence. "I was never any good at it."

"I hate it too," I grumbled. "But Dad insists that I become good at it so I can take over his stupid coffee business one day. Why would I even be interested in it? I don't even drink the stuff! It's nasty!"

He cracked a smile. "You might like it one day," he sighed, glancing at the muted radio. "And math is important. You need it for paying taxes, bills, and other things."

"I don't know what taxes are."

"You'll find out one day."

He sometimes forgets that I'm only ten years old. A smart mouthed ten year old, but a ten year old none the less. "I think History is the most boring subject," I continued, much to his chagrin. "It's just a bunch of useless junk. Why study it?"

His mouth tightened and for a moment, I thought that maybe I'd crossed the line, whatever that saying means. "Those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it," he replied in kind of a short tone. "And people who made history are what make us who we are."

"What does that mean?"

"You'll understand when you're older."

He pulled into the back lot, parking his car where a bunch of other looking vehicles were. We hoped out, heading inside. It was only five, so not a lot of vehicles were there, but the ones that were didn't look very expensive. Uncle Charlie is a night guard here at the Smithsonian and although he likes the job, I heard Mom tell Dad that he actually wants to become a History teacher. I don't know why, since it sounds like the most boring job in the world, but Mom told me not to ask. Something about how it would be rude.

He leaded me across the sidewalk, making sure my hand was clenched tightly in his as we avoided the many cars and buses that held both tourists and locals alike. Trying to keep up with his long legs, I practically ran to follow him into the Smithsonian Institution Building. It wasn't as if it was my fault for being short, but he could at least make an effort to slow down!

The doors opened, revealing a couple people looking at pamphlets inside or talking to a few of the people that worked here. One woman, a young lady in her late twenties with curly brown hair and a dimpled smile came over, her blue eyes looking at my uncle sweetly. "Hello Charlie," she began, looking down to get a good look at me. "And who is this little cutie?"

"I'm not little; I'm ten!" I shot back, annoyance rushing through me. Ten was a much more grown up number than nine. And I am not little; I'm just rather short. "And I am not cute."

The lady just smiled, probably thinking I am still cute. "Is this your niece?" she asked him, the smile seeming to go on forever. Uncle Charlie nodded, giving her the answer. I watched the two of them, noticing how her smile reached her eyes. Uncle Charlie had a light blush on his cheeks, his hands fidgeting at his sides. If she noticed this, her smile just grew larger. "And you're taking her to work with you? That's really sweet! I hope you have a good time!"

She walked away, giving a little wave. Uncle Charlie just cleared his throat, motioning for me to follow him. "Who was that?" I asked as we headed down the stairs to the locker room. "She seemed really friendly."

"Paula," he answered. "Paula Smith."

"Do you like her?"

"Of course I do," he replied, looking as if I had asked a silly question. "She's a very nice young woman."

I rolled my eyes. "No, I mean _like-like _her. Like you want to kiss her," I wrinkled my nose. "And that is totally gross."

His face turned red as he strapped on his dark blue uniform jacket, his flashlight and keys hooked to his belt. "Didn't your dad ever tell you not to be nosey?" he huffed, leading me along through the front of the building and out the double sliding doors.

"No," I skipped in front of him, ignoring his annoyed face. "He's too busy selling coffee."

"Uh-huh."

The sun was starting to set, the last rays of light creating large shadows out of anything it touched. I sighed, wiping my forehead to get rid of the small bits of sweat that had piled up. Even it was a few days before Memorial Day, it was still really hot. Even Uncle Charlie looked uncomfortable. He had loosened his uniform a bit too cool off, sweat tricking down his brow. I let out a loud sigh. "Are we there yet?"

He glanced at me incredulously. "Do you even know where we're going?"

He got me there. I sagged my shoulders, glaring as he laughed at me. "No," I grumbled. "But it's just so hot out!"

"Don't worry; we'll be there soon."

"Where are we even going?"

"To the Archives. I have to check on things before heading to the other exhibits, alright?"

"Fine," I nodded my head, grinning largely as he turned the corner to walk into the nearest building, pulling me along as I almost ran into a group of old people. He led us down a long stretch of hallway, greeting a few of the other watchmen with a curt nod and hello. It was all very boring, except for watching one of the night guard's get in a fight with a sharply dressed man in a suit, arguing about how his name was pronounced Brundon, not, Brandon.

"Here we are," Uncle Charlie slid his I.D into a slot, the bared door flashing green and opening. We stepped inside, and I will admit, I was intrigued by all there boxes and crates. My eyes went wide taking it all in and Uncle Charlie just smiled. "Don't get any ideas; you can't open them."

"Dang it!"

He laughed for a second, lifting me up and setting me down on one of the crates. "Now, I want you to sit and WAIT here. That means you can't run off and explore," he narrowed his eyes at me, as if he knew what I was thinking. "I'll be back in exactly ten minutes."

"Okay."

He disappeared into the rows and shelves of unopened objects, the sound of his footsteps echoing into the distance. I swung my legs out, swinging them back and forth against the crate I was sitting on. My heels slammed into with a loud bang, and I hummed a little as I waited, with absolutely nothing to do.

"This is boring," I muttered. "I wonder what's in this crate anyway."

I hoped off, looking down at the nametag that was strapped to the side. "Napoleon…Bonaparte?" I stumbled over his last name, most likely butchering it by calling him Bonaparty. What? Some languages do pronounce the letter e like that!

I hoped back on the box, giving another impatient sigh. I looked at the pink watch strapped around my wrist. Uncle Charlie had been gone for fifteen minutes now. What was the hold up? "He said not to explore," I mused to myself, my light brown eyes probably looking mischievous. "But he never said not to go looking for him."

With that in mind, I got up off the crate and headed towards the direction he went. Sadly, I didn't get very far. Two minutes into the whole thing, I ended right back to where I started, back at the Frenchie's crate. "Well, this is just great," I grumbled. "Freaking wonderful."

"HEY! LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

I shrieked, falling off the crate with a loud thud. My eyes widened, jaw dropping quite a ways down as the crate began to move, along with many of the others. "LET US OUT!" the voice, distinctly sounding French, shouted. "LET US OUT, MAINTENANT!"

"What the…?" I trailed off, heart thudding. "There is no way…"

"I can hear you! Let us out!"

I looked around the area frantically, a flash of blue catching my eye. The same man I'd seen earlier, the one in the sharp suit, ran past the many crates and boxes. A woman in an aviator's get up followed him, looking rather excited as a group of angry looking Egyptians. A man in a strange looking hat followed, shouting at the men in Egyptian. Panicked, I did the only thing I could think of: I ducked under a box and hid.

"_This is not happening," _I repeated to myself, trying to not start crying. _"Where's Uncle Charlie? Did those strange men get him? Why isn't he here?"_

**BAM**

The sound of something wooden and heavy hit the ground, the sounds of grumbling French men and snickering Italian's could be heard, I peered from underneath the large box, the opening small enough for me to see through. I watched with horrified eyes as the wax figures from the box stood up, brushing hay off their clothes. The shortest one wearing a big hat began to yell at the black and white colored man near him, the latter smirking down at him.

"Gentlemen, please," the Egyptian man from earlier stepped forward, a man dressed in silver robes with a large scepter soon followed, appearing next to the man. "There is something I must ask of you.

"_Well," _I found myself saying inwardly. _"I guess tonight isn't going to be as boring as I thought."_

"I am Kahmunrah. Half-God, once removed on my mother's side. Rightful ruler of Egypt, future ruler of, well, everything else."

I couldn't help it, but a giggle broke its way through my lips. I instantly clapped my hands over my mouth, trying to keep my breathing quiet. I stretched my legs out, feeling rather cramped from underneath the box. Couldn't the lisp man hurry up his speech so I could leave? Being stuck under a crate isn't exactly how I want to spend my evening.

"Now, I have lost some men. So I am in need of some new generals to join me in my little plan of conquering this world."

He turned to the silver dressed man. "Ivan the Terrible."

He turned the French man. "Napoleon Bonaparte."

Finally, he looked over to the monochromatic men. "And Young Al Capone."

He paced back and forth, trying to pull off an evil grin. "Gentlemen," his evil grin faltered, his expression now changing into one like a kid in a candy store. "Really, it's just fantastic to meet you all!"

The three men nodded, giving polite smiles. Well Napoleon, or whatever his name is, looked rather proud of being acknowledged, but it amused me none the less. Kahmunrah continued on, clapping his hands once again. "All I ask is your allegiance and in return, I offer you the world. Literally. Are there any questions?"

Al Capone spoke up. "Yeah, I got one. How come you're wearin' a dress?"

Another giggle burst past my lips, now realizing the mobster was right. The Egyptian _did _look like he was wearing dress. He gave the mobster an insulted look. "This is not a dress, it is a tunic. It was the height of fashion three thousand years ago, I assure you."

Right….

"Are there any other questions?" He continued.

Ivan raised his scepter. "Da. This, um, dress you're wearing. Do we have to wear one too?"

The former Pharaoh looked now even more insulted. "Of course not! Were you not just listening? I just told Mr. Capone here that this is not a dress; it is in fact a tunic. Very big difference. Now are there any other questions?"

Napoleon raised his hand, only to bring it down once the Pharaoh sighed. "Are there any questions not about the dress…tunic," he shook his head, as if he were trying to put the topic behind him. "Alright then, moonlight is wasting and the time is short-"

"Short? Why do you look at me when you say short?"

Napoleon laid his hand on his dagger, glaring harshly at the pharaoh. Kahmunrah blinked, obviously not seeing the problem. "I, uh, sorry. Slipped out."

I should have kept my mouth shut all those times; I really should have. Before I could even let out a sigh of relief that they were done talking, a pair of gloved hands wrapped around my ankles. I yelped, being thrown on my back as I was dragged out of my hideout, meeting the dark eyes of a French soldier, who held me up in midair by my armpits. Kahmunrah stepped forward, head cocked. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

"Looks like a kid," Capone said, looking rather surprised himself. "But aren't they supposed to be in bed by now?"

"I'm not a kid!" I snapped. "I'm ten!"

"Oh, we're dealing with a lady here, gentlemen," Kahmunrah rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "You wouldn't happen to know what happened to the Golden Tablet of Ahkmunrah, would you?"

"The what?" I asked, squirming in the soldier's arms. He let me down, keeping a firm grip on my shoulders. "Look Pyramid guy, I came here with my Uncle. Have you seen him?"

Kahmunrah tapped his chin. "We did knock out a night guard a little while ago…" he trailed off before shaking his head. "But he is not important. He got in my way; I had to take care of him. Now, where is the Tablet? A man named Mr. Daley ran by with it; you must have seen him."

I fought back the urge to stamp my feet. "I don't have your stupid tablet! If you want one so badly, why don't you go to Apple and buy one?"

Kahmunrah glanced at the others. "Do any of you know what "Apple", is?"

The three of them shook their heads, looking just as confused as the Pharaoh. I glowered at him, fighting against the soldier. "Where is my Uncle? Show me where he is, now!"

"Give me the tablet and I'll tell you."

"I don't have your tablet! I don't even know a Mr. Daley!"

He flicked a finger against my forehead before crossing his arms. "You will show your ruler the proper respect or you will die!"

I had no idea what this phrase meant, or even if I should be using it, but I heard our neighbor's ex-girlfriend shout it at him. "Up yours!" I spat out, slamming my left foot down hard on the soldier's toe and giving the weird Pharaoh a swift kick in the shin before dashing off into the rest of the archives.

Kahmunrah howled behind me. "GET HER!" He shouted, and I could hear the pain in his voice. "BRING ME THAT LITTLE GIRL NOW! GET THAT BRAT!"

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><p><strong>Ah, I hate using dialogue from the movie, but for this story I must. Please review! I'll do my best at trying to sound like a smart mouthed ten year old to the best of my abilities! More updates will be coming soon! I hope Ava doesn't sound like too much of a Mary-Sue by this point, but we'll see how the rest of it turns out. If you have something to point out, then by all means, point it out! <strong>

**No flames though. Those are just rude and unhelpful. If you do have something to say, then please say it constructively.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note: **Thanks for all the awesome reviews! I bring you this wonderful update so I hope you enjoy! So glad the first week of going back to school is done. The first week is always the longest, you know? But we did have a lot of late starts and one snow day, so I can't really complain. Anyways, happy readings!_

_**Warnings:** None_

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own the sandbox. I just jump the fence to play in it._

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><p>"<em>GET HER! Bring ME THAT LITTLE GIRL NOW! GET THAT BRAT!<em>

Never before in my life had I run as fast as I was running right now. From over my shoulders, I could hear curses coming from four different languages. I ducked behind one of the taller crates, pressing my body against it and tried to control my breathing.

"_What do I do?" _I asked myself, panic continuing to rise. "_Daddy only told me to kick and run! He never said anything about them running after me!"_

I peered out from over the edge of the box and quickly pulled back when two Russian soldiers ran by. I shivered, drawing my knees up and praying to God that they did not find me. I let out another breath, standing up a little. I know I couldn't stay in this spot for long, so leaving would probably be a good idea.

"Did you see where she went?"

"I thought I just saw her!"

"Thought you did? Either you saw her or you didn't."

My eyes went wide at the sound of Napoleon and Al Capone arguing. From what I could hear, they were standing right in front of my box! Not enough to notice me, but if they took a few steps forward they would probably see me.

"You stupide American! If you're so clever, why haven't you found her?"

"Why haven't you, shorty?" I could practically hear the smugness in Capone's voice. "I think a small person like you could have found a small kid."

Small kid? I will have you know that I am at least 4'5! I rolled my eyes in annoyance, trying to lower my breathing and melt into the box so they wouldn't find me. I wasn't especially worried; all they were doing was arguing, but it was kind of amusing to listen in on.

"It ez not my fault she is small!" the French was becoming very prominent in Napoleon's voice. "She could be anywhere by now!"

"And whose fault is that?"

"Why you!"

They continued to argue, my amusement only growing. The way they interacted almost made them sound like an old married couple. I'm not entirely sure what that means, but Mom says that two of her friends argue like that. This is strange because she and Daddy hardly ever argue.

"_Alright, you can do this," _I tried to assure myself, my conscious trying to speak comforting words to me. _"Just don't draw any attention to yourself and you will be fine."_

"ACHOO!"

I clapped my hands over my mouth, light brown eyes widening to the size of golf balls as they grew quiet. For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. I could hear their footsteps walking away, their voices turning into whispers. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but it sounded like they thought I was somewhere in the opposite direction.

"Good," I whispered to myself. "Morons!"

I dashed out from the crate, only to run into a short Frenchman.

Immediately the Italian Mobster grabbed me, holding me tightly by the shoulders as the Frenchman smirked down at me. "So, the tiny mouse runs into the giant claws of the cat! By which of course I am the cat and _you_ are the mouse!"

I struggled against Capone. "Let me go! Now!"

"Sorry kid, not going to happen," he picked me up, tossing me over his shoulders and started back towards where Kahmunrah was. Napoleon trailed after, looking haughty and quite pleased with himself for catching me.

Well, I certainly couldn't have that. So I did the most mature thing I could think of. I stuck my tongue out.

He narrowed his eyes, not at all amused. "Why do you do that?" he asked. "It is very immature!"

"Says the short man who tries to make himself look taller!"

Capone chuckled a little, shaking his head. "That was a good one," he said, not flinching as Napoleon glared daggers into his back. "That was a good description of you, Little Nippy."

"You little brat!" Napoleon walked even quicker, trying to keep up with Capone's long strides. "You ignorant American! And I am not Little Nippy!"

The rest of the trip resulted in Napoleon spouting off curses, Capone laughing at him, and me trying to get lose. By the time we got to where Kahmunrah was, I was already tired. Kahmunrah sat in some giant living chair, observing some trinkets he had managed to collect. When he saw Capone enter the room with me over his shoulder, he grinned and stepped down. "Ah, Mr. Capone, Monsieur Bonaparte. You have succeeded in bringing me….bringing me…." He looked confused. "Ah sorry, what's your name? I don't think you ever told us."

I huffed; finally glad when Capone put me down. I crossed my arms over my T-shirt. "Ava," I replied shortly. "Ava Woods."

"Well Ms. Woods, my shin is extremely sore from the kicking I received," he moved out his leg, showing the rather nasty bruise that was forming. I instantly grinned, which wasn't the reaction he was wanting. "I should kill you, but you might prove to be useful later on and-"

"Hold on a sec," Capone interrupted. "I don't know you all that well, but I don't kill kids."

"Moi non plus," Napoleon agreed, crossing his arms. "I do not murder children."

"If they do not give me reason," both Napoleon and Capone gave Ivan a look. The Russian Tsar only shrugged. "What?"

"As I was saying," Kahmunrah continued. "You might be useful in getting me that tablet. Monsieur Bonaparte, take your men and find Mr. Daley. I'm sure someone of your high standards could do it."

Napoleon nodded once. "Oui."

I wanted to sneak out with the French exhibits, but with all three pairs of eyes on me, that was not going to happen. Kahmunrah sat back down in his chair, lounging as he picked up something. Capone picked me up again, setting me down in front of him on a box. "Sit here and don't do anything," he ordered, picking up his Tommy gun to start cleaning it. "And I mean it."

"What if I have to pee?"

He lifted his head, not sure of how to answer that. "What?"

"What if I have to go pee? Do you want me to ruin my pants?"

He sighed. "Then I'll have one of my boys take you to the bathroom. So, you're not going anywhere."

"Dang it," I grumbled, crossing my arms in annoyance. "You sound like my Uncle Charlie. He never lets me do anything."

"Sounds like a swell guy," Capone smirked, not looking up from his gun. "You should listen to him more often."

"Haha, very funny."

He shook his head, still not looking from his gun. "You sound like my son, Sonny. He was a rambunctious little scamp like you when he was you're age."

I raised my eyebrow. "You had a song? I figured you were some old greasy thug."

"You sure do have a way with words," he voice dripped with sarcasm. "Yeah, back in 1918 Mae and I had a boy, Albert. We called him Sonny for the most part. He liked to talk a lot, like most kids I guess. Ended up having four daughters, heh."

"Four daughters? I would love to have sisters! All I got stuck with was two older brothers."

"What's wrong with having brothers? I had six of them."

I made a face at the thought of having six other smelly brothers. "I would still rather have six sisters. Boys stink. And they eat everything in the house."

Capone shook his head. "Well girls spray gross perfume everywhere. They nag all the time, and they always think they're right about everything."

"That's because we are."

"Uh-huh," he set his gun down. "And girls can act real catty. Especially once a month."

"What does that mean?" I asked, not at all understanding what he was saying. "How do we act catty once a month?"

"Never mind," he said quickly, bringing his gun back into his lap. "So, what do your brothers do that is so annoying?"

I let out a loud sigh, more than happy to vent. "They smell all the time! They workout and then walk around the house in their smelly clothes. And their noisy; they bring their friends over and I can hear them from my room upstairs. Their music is loud, they eat almost everything in sight, and they make fun of-"

"Make fun of what?"

"Nothing," I quickly ended. "Did your brothers ever annoy you?"

He didn't even get a chance to answer the question, for one of his men walked into the room carrying a birdcage. Kahmunrah didn't even look up until he had tossed a pair of ruby encrusted shoes over the couch. "Hey boss, caught this one trying to escape from the rust hole in the crate. One of his little friends got away."

Kahmunrah just smiled. "Oh please, what damage could they possibly do? Why, they're no bigger than a little grain of koothkooth, aren't you?"

I peered forward, narrowing my eyes to peer inside the cage. A tiny little man was inside, dressed up as a cowboy, arms crossed as if he were trying to appear tough. "You know there's two words that come to mind when I hear you talk. Delusional and weirdo. And if I had to pick a third, goofy, just plain goofy."

I smiled, liking this tiny guy. The little man leaned forward, trying to appear threatening. "Now you let old Jedidiah out of here or he's going to get real angry."

Kahmunrah laughed, tears practically welling up in his eyes as he stared at the figure. "I just can't take you seriously, you're just adorable! Even when you're threatening me it's hilarious. Now is it just me, or are these guys unbelievably cute."

Jedidiah obviously did not like that. "Now hold it a second there! You have a right to keep me as your captive; torture me, but don't call me cute! I aint cute!"

"Nous lui avons capture!"

Everyone turned their heads around as Napoleon walked back in, leading a man dressed up in a night guard suit carrying a tablet. Kahmunrah rose from his throne, the others following in pursuit. Capone took my hand, dragging me to where Kahmunrah was, hand clenched firmly on my wrist.

"Hello Mr. Daley," Kahmunrah began. "Nice to see you again. Now if you don't mind, I shall take that from you, thank you."

He took the tablet from the man, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning as he looked at the tablet. "Finally, finally!" he exclaimed, walking towards a pair of Ancient black gates and set the tablet in, pressing a combination in. "After three thousand years, my evil army of the damned, my beautiful, beautiful army shall be UNLEASHED!"

He stepped away from it, arms wide open for the hoard that was about to come. We all looked around, waiting for something big to happen. I stared at Mr. Daley, hoping to catch his attention by staring at him. However, his attention was more focused on the nutty Egyptian Pharaoh. Kahmunrah sighed, clapping his hands together apologetically. "Ah, I'm afraid that Mother and Father may have slightly altered the combination on me."

Mr. Daley shrugged, swinging his arms a little as he spoke. "Wow, guess this whole, uh, unleashing the underworld isn't really working out for you, huh? Just must be really frustrating cause you've waited thousands of years just to come back from the dead and everything and now you can't get it open."

I grinned, though still a little worried on how the Egyptian would take his lack of disrespect. Kahmunrah didn't lose fazed, much to my surprise. "Fear not, because I will wait a thousand more if I must."

"Good, cause in a few hours you'll just be standing here in a frustrated position, frozen, and I'll walk out of here with my buddies and that will be that, so I got all night." Larry said nonchalantly, not looking very worried at all.

Kahmunrah lifted his head, not at all mused. "Really, all night? Well, they don't."

"They?"

He pointed towards Jedidiah and me, not cracking a smile. Mr. Daley turned his head towards the man holding the bird cage, his eyes dropping the amused glimmer. When he finally noticed me, he looked even angrier. "A kid? You're holding a kid hostage? Let her go!"

Kahmunrah only stared, walking toward the monochromatic man. "Open that cage," he ordered, ignoring the cowboy's protest about being manhandled or something. "Oh look!" he grinned, pointing. "He's having a tiny little tantrum. Na-ah, don't squirm, don't you squirm, I shan't hurt you oops. I lied."

He placed the cowboy in an hour glass, turning it over so that sand was piling up all around him slowly. "Uh-oh, I don't think he has all night at all Mr. Daley. I'd say he has little more than an hour," he sauntered over to the tablet. "You were the guardian, you know all about this tablet. You're obviously much cleverer than the rest of us. You may or may not know the combination but I am going to give you exactly one hour to figure it out. If you do not, I shall kill your little friend and Ms. Ava Woods. And please don't think about escaping for I shall be watching you!"

Mr. Daley looked helpless, lost even. "Look, I don't even know how to begin to decipher this thing!" he complained. "Really!"

"Oh, what a pity. You're little cowboy friend seemed like such a charming little fellow. I could care less about the little brat over there, but ah well. Tick tock, Mr. Daley. Your hour has begun."

"Hey!" Jedidiah or Jed as I heard the man say once. "You got this partner. I know you do!"

Kahmunrah waved his hand. "Shoo!"

Jed spread out his hands, shouting as loud as he could. "YOU GOT THIS!"

The Egyptian returned to his throne, sitting down comfortably in his chair. Capone put me back on my box, scanning over me with narrowed eyes. "You were saying something earlier," he started. "And so you should finish it."

"I don't really want to."

"It's only fair, kid. I asked you a question, you should answer it."

I crossed my arms. "Maybe I don't want to."

Napoleon glanced over at me, not at all amused by my behavior. "Maybe I do not want to see you act like a gosse culotté."

"Maybe I do not want to hear you call me names in French!"

Capone shook his head. "Nippy is right, you really don't need to be acting like a…whatever he said," he grinned a little. "And the kid here has a point, Nippy; you really need to work on your English."

"That is not my name! Why do you insist on calling me that?"

"Why do you insist on starting fights every time someone makes you mad?"

"Why do you have to be such a cretín?"

I sighed rather loudly, repeating something my older brother once told his friend. "Why don't you two go make-out with each already?" They looked at me rather strangely, probably wondering if I even knew what that meant. "What?"

"Humph, I've had enough of you two," Napoleon marched over to the window, drawing out his telescope and peering out of it. "Naïve Americans!" he grumbled, refusing to look at us.

Capone shook his head, watching as Ivan began to leave with his knights. "Nippy sure does get his knickers in a twist," he smiled a little as Napoleon grumbled something to his soldiers. "Especially if you say short."

"He's not that short," I grumbled. "It's not like it's going to prevent him from doing things."

"What do you mean?"

I smacked myself on the forehead for saying that out loud. "I mean like, well, you know, doing everyday things."

"What are you getting at?"

Some people are really persistent, you know? I sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll tell you since you won't leave me alone about it," I noticed the others glancing curiously at me as well. "Since you want to know so badly here it is. I'm going to be blind before I turn thirty."

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><p><strong>Review please! More updates will be coming your way if you do!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note: **So this chapter is definitely not as long as the other two chapters. I apologize for that, and for the short Hiatus. I should have been focusing on this chapter along with my other stories, but I got caught up in the other ones. I have also been experiencing so emotional anxiety and depression problems as well, but I'll be okay. I've been talking about it with people I care about, so I'm taking care of it. It's not as bad as some cases, but it does run in my family. Thanks for all the support and reviews!_

_**Warnings: **None_

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Night at the Museum and never will. If I did, well, it probably wouldn't be as good as Shawn Levy's version._

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><p>Retinas Pigmentosa. I first found out I had it when I was around six years old. I remember being constantly tired; with my vision being sometimes blurry and often having a more circular-tunnel like form of vison, along with night vision. By the time I started kindergarten, it had slightly worsened. I was becoming more sensitive to light and certain colors were becoming more difficult to see. When I finally complained to my mom, she took me to the doctor immediately, which resulted in a few weeks later with a diagnosis. It was made very clear to me that I would be blind before thirty, maybe even before twenty.<p>

Explaining that to my captors was just buckets of fun. Apparently Kahmunrah didn't exactly understand modern day illnesses and said I must be cursed by the Gods. Ivan and Nippy had little knowledge on how the human body worked. Capone seemed to understand a little, but even he looked a little lost on what genetics was.

Ivan scratched his beard. "So if your babushka had it, why doesn't your parents?"

I scowled lightly, crossing my arms. "Because my dad is a carrier. He won't ever be affected, but unfortunately, one of his kids was. Me," I sighed, totally anxious to discuss this topic. "My oldest brother was born unaffected and my other two older brothers are carriers of the gene. I was the unlucky one who was affected."

Capone just nodded, face set in a thinking position. "At least you won't die from it. Syphilis isn't exactly a fun disease to carry around."

"How did you get it?"

He shook his head rather quickly. "I'm not going into details," he ignored my questioning gaze due to the look that Napoleon was giving him. I'm not sure how to describe it, other than my mom gave my brother the look when he was about to tell me that Santa wasn't real, which is totally not true. Capone waved his hand, adjusting his hat with the other. "Anyways, at least you can still do everyday functions. I mean, I don't know what it's like not being able to see but until you're completely blind, keep your chin up."

"Um, okay?"

Napoleon nodded. "Oui. Complainers accomplish nothing."

"But I wasn't complaining!" I argued, completely insulted by that statement. "You asked about what was wrong!"

He just lifted his head pridefully. "Even so, you can make the most out of what you have now. Cherish what you have now before it's too late."

I wanted to kick him, but with all the guards in the room, it probably wouldn't have been a good idea. I was going to retort to what he just said, but at that minute, Kahmunrah stepped back into the room. "Gentlemen!" he began rather cheerfully. "I have something for us to do."

I noticed Capone had disappeared, so Napoleon took me by the hand and led me to where his men were; making two of them stand between me. Kahmunrah gave me a sneer, which resulted in me sticking my tongue out. He ignored this and continued speaking to his friends. "Gentlemen I have thought long and hard on how to govern my new realm and after a borderline and sacrosanct journey, I have come up with a solution," he lifted up a twister board, and I raised my eyebrows. He only grinned mischievously. "Prepare yourselves. Right foot blue!"

Both Napoleon and Ivan stepped to the right at about the same time. Narrowing my eyes, I glared at the two of their feet. "Nippy was there first!" I called out, completely ignoring Kahmunrah's glare. "Nippy wins Canada!"

Napoleon rolled his eyes at the nickname. "I win Canada?" he sighed dramatically. "But it's so boring there."

"Have you ever been there?" I asked.

"No."

"I have. We went on a skiing trip there last winter. My oldest brother broke his leg," I carried on, only to have something thrown at my head. I glared up to see Kahmunrah smirking cruelly. "What was that for?" I complained. "That hurt!"

"We don't have time to listen to your whole life story. Now, left food red!" Kahmunrah spun the dial; Napoleon and Ivan moving again. He only looked up when he realized that Capone was gone. "Where's Mr. Capone? Doesn't he want to play?"

I glanced over at Capone, who was now staring at something on a display case quite intently. "Yeah, I ain't playin' no games!" he called out in a rather angry voice. "Did you hear about this?"

Ivan and Napoleon only shrugged, with Ivan looking not very concerned. "I had heard a rumor."

Capone waved his hands dramatically. "I'm gonna be fat," he concluded. "And locked up for tax evasion. Tax evasion," he shook his head incredulously. "What kind of sucker gets pinched for tax evasion?"

He started stomping his feet in a very childish manner, throwing his hat to the ground. Kahmunrah stared at his generals warily, all three of them keeping quiet. I only groaned in protest. "Why do you all keep talking about taxes," I started, not even caring if the Mafia man was angry. "What's so bad about them?"

I only received an annoyed look from the man as he stormed away. Kahmunrah set down the board in defeat. "I suppose we'll have to play later," he miffed, stepping down the marble steps to speak directly at his other two generals. "Now, will one of you please get this annoying creature out of my sight? I've always found that children are, oh, how do you say, bothersome?"

"Why don't you say that to my face!" I spat, crossing my arms to try and appear tough. "I'm right here you know."

He glanced down at me. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"I may be practically blind, but I ain't deaf!"

"Ain't is not a word," Napoleon corrected in a snooty voice, straightening out his military uniform. "For an American, you should know how to speak properly. We French don't soil our language."

I had to roll my eyes at him. "Yeah, but at least we don't have a pole up our butt," I grinned, hearing Ivan snicker in the background. "Unlike you, Monsieur Fussy britches."

"Pourquoi vous insolente sale gosse!"

"What?"

He threw his hands up. "I give up," he moaned, securing his wobbly hat. "You Americans are so annoying, sometimes."

I couldn't help it. I probably shouldn't have done it, but I jumped up to grab the hat off his head. He immediately howled with anger and ran after me as I took off down the hall, grinning the whole time. He shouted angry curses that I couldn't understand and sent his men after me. They wasted no time in catching me, one of the younger looking soldiers grabbed the hat from my hands and handed it back to Napoleon, who did not look pleased at all. "Silly little girl," he grumbled. "Thought you were being funny, were you?"

I shrugged. "I wanted to look at it," this was not at all true. I just felt like making him mad if you really wanted me to be honest. "It's all big and pretty."

He seemed to puff up at that, his chest rising a little. "My hat is not pretty, it is grand," he bragged. "It makes me appear taller and more proud."

"If you say so."

"I do."

I made a face, obviously not expecting that response. Before I could even reply, Kahmunrah, Ivan, and Capone appeared, the former glaring down at me in strong irritation. "I should kill you for causing such childish trouble," he growled. "But until Mr. Daley returns from his mission, I am not allowed to do so. Consider yourself lucky, girl."

Capone just shook his head, leaning down to pick me up. "You sure do like to cause trouble, don't you?" he asked as I settled myself down in his arms. "Taking Nippy's hat, making Ramen Noodle mad. You might get hurt one of these days."

I yawned at him, not even realizing what time it was. I imagined it was past nine, but I couldn't be entirely sure. I'd lost my watch some time ago and there were no clocks in sight. I didn't even bother to ask him if it was okay to relax my head on his shoulder. My vision was becoming blurry, with the world around me appearing in more of a tunnel like fashion. I frowned, feeling my throat tighten up. I wouldn't say it out loud, but going blind scares me more than what I let on.

I closed my eyes briefly for a moment, in taking the world around me. Capone had strong arms, just like Uncle Charlie. _"And like Daddy," _I said to myself, trying to fight back the tears. _"Will I ever see the two of them again?"_

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><p><strong><em>And this was chapter three! Please review and leave feedback. Luff luff and knuffles!<em>**


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